


A Day in the Lives

by thesaltydragon



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Anxiety, Multi, it's really just garbage, just some dumb stuff, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-09 15:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12891156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaltydragon/pseuds/thesaltydragon
Summary: Some oneshots I'm writing as practice! These will probably be pretty short, each one independent, and I plan on having them be very diverse, so there will be many AUs and new scenarios! The chapters will be named with the AU/main pairing (if there is one) so you can navigate easier!





	1. Sadie Hawkins (Boyf Riends)

“It originated in a comic strip from the 1930s, and over the years it has become quite iconic. Ours will be in the gym on November 20 at 7pm. Remember, girls! This is your chance to ask the special guys in your lives! We expect to see you all at Middleborough High’s annual Sadie Hawkins Dance!” The intercom’s static signaled to the students that the announcement was over. Class resumed. For Jeremy, that meant more reading from his least favorite book of the school year so far, Kafka’s The Metamorphosis. If he had to read one more sentence about a giant roach, Jeremy was sure he’d vomit.

However, Jeremy didn’t do much reading after the announcement of the Girls’ Choice dance. He now had other things in mind; mainly, and quite simply, what if you’re in a relationship without a girl?

\-----------------------

“Michael!” Jeremy always said this, without fail, every lunch period when he saw his best-friend-turned-recent-boyfriend carrying his food to their table. Michael believed it was Jeremy’s way of showing him that he’s still important to him, following Halloween. They didn’t speak of that night, and no one bugged them to.

Their table had grown since then--what used to be just the two of them had quickly turned into eight, and the former “popular” tables had disbanded without their infamous contenders. 

“Hey, guys,” Michael greeted, plopping himself down in his old and familiar seat next to Jeremy. Nothing had changed much between the two of them since they had started dating officially. (Jeremy had made sure Michael knew the story. Christine had told Jeremy that she still wasn’t looking for a relationship, and Jeremy had told her that it was really okay--he said that the lack of Michael in his life had shown him just how much his best friend had really meant to him, and that maybe there was more to their friendship than he thought there could be. She’d told him to go for it. Fast forward a few weeks and they were official boyfriends, which Michael had sort of dreamed of since eighth grade.)

Save some hand holding and the one time Jeremy felt sick and sat in Michael’s lap at lunch, yeah, nothing had really changed. They were already closer than people on a packed five o’clock subway car. There wasn’t really much room to evolve beyond that. They took it slow. 

 

As Michael situated himself in between his boyfriend and Rich, Jeremy gave him a look. Over their twelve years of deep friendship, the two boys had gotten pretty decent at being able to tell what each other was thinking just by the look in their eyes. This time, though, Michael was seriously confused. Jeremy looked...constipated? But also a bit anxious, a different sort of anxious than usual. Michael put a hand on Jeremy’s arm, which was on the table next to his tray. He took a breath, but Rich interrupted him.

“Guys,” his lisp had become something they’d all gotten accustomed to, “what do you think of this dance thing?” He spoke around his food--a mouthful of the pepperoni pizza Jake was sharing with him from their date at the mall’s Sbarro’s the night before. “I think it’s weird,” he said. “Why can’t someone just ask who they want? Why’s it gotta be gendered, man?” He shook his head. 

“I think it’s cute,” Christine piped up from the other side of Jeremy. Brooke nodded in agreement. “It’s a nice change from the tradition!”

“Well, yeah, but I get where Rich is coming from,” Jake said, his boyfriend nodding along like Brooke had. “I don’t think these things need tradition.”

“What are we talking about?” Michael was confused. Did he miss something? “What dance?”

“There was just an announcement about it, Mike,” Brooke looked at him like he’d grown an extra head. 

“Well, sorry, but the intercom in the photography room doesn’t work.” Michael rolled his eyes. The speaker had blown out on the first day of school, and since the state funds were going to the frisbee golf team, the district didn’t have enough money to fix it before Christmas. 

Chloe’s face lit up. “It’s a Sadie Hawkins dance!” she all but squealed. “Girls’ Choice! Power to the purse!” 

“That’s not what that means, Chloe,” Jeremy said. “Giving power to the purse actually means that the government can control the financial-”

Jake cut him off. “Jeremy, we know you just came from government class, but can you not ruin the moment with it?”

Jeremy nodded sheepishly and Michael’s grip on his arm tightened in apology. 

“So, Girls’ Choice?” Michael brought the group back to the topic. 

“Yeah!” Jenna added. “It’s when the girl gets to ask the guy to the dance instead of the other way around!”

“Which I think is gendered bullsh-” Chloe stuffed a french fry in Rich’s mouth to quiet him.

The conversation slowly turned into one about the new iPhone, but Michael couldn’t help but notice Jeremy’s weird look again. Was this about the dance? It had to be. Jeremy was most likely anxious about the whole thing. He’d ask, but the bell for fourth period rang before he could get it out.

\-----------------------

Jeremy made his way to Michael’s parking spot behind the gym. Lately, his boyfriend had been driving him home. It was nice; a good way to eliminate some of the stress caused by school every day. However, this time, the stress had to do with Michael.

Jeremy wished he would have said something about it at lunch, but when he finally put his words together, the conversation had changed. How was he supposed to do it now? How was he supposed to tell Michael he doesn’t know what to do? 

Which one of them is supposed to ask the other to the dance if the girl is supposed to be doing it? Did that mean one of them is the girl in the relationship? Rich would say no. He has firm beliefs specifically NOT in gender roles. The girls do, too, especially Christine. But she seemed happy about the idea of the dance…

Standing waiting for Michael, Jeremy managed to work himself into a near panic about this dance. He had to lean on Michael’s car to catch his breath. What if Michael expects him to ask? What if Michael was planning on asking? What if he doesn’t want to go at all? What if--

“Jer, there you are!” The taller boy approached. Jeremy was still breathing heavily. “Are you okay?” 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” Jeremy lied. He knew Michael could tell, but it was hard to say he wasn’t okay. It always had been. That’s why Michael learned Jeremy’s tics. 

“No you’re not. What’s wrong? You looked at me weird at lunch today.” Michael unlocked the car doors manually with his key. “Get in, you can tell me about it on the way.”

Jeremy climbed into the passenger seat. When he heard Michael start the engine, he took a deep breath. He had to tell Michael someday. The dance was soon. Why not just be honest?

“It’s just this whole dance thing.” He fiddled with the ends of his cardigan. “I don’t know-”

“What to wear?” Michael guessed. “You look best in blue. I think that light sky blue bow tie you wore to middle school graduation would look great on you.”

“What..?” Jeremy was at a loss for words. He hadn’t even asked him!

“You don’t have it anymore?”

“Of course I do, b-but,” he stopped talking.

“Well, I think you should wear it.” Michael turned left and Jeremy moved to look at him. 

“I-I don’t know who’s supposed to ask!” He blurted. He’d said it. Michael knew it, now, that he was an idiot for not knowing. Rich and Jake seemed like they knew the answer at lunch. He should have asked them. 

“What?” Michael glanced at him before putting his eyes back on the road. “That’s what this is about?” 

Jeremy tried to suppress a groan, but it came out sounding more pathetic. “I’m sorry!”

“Jer, breathe,” Michael said in his soft, calming voice. “I just assumed we were already planning on going.”

“You did?” Jeremy squeaked. 

“Yeah, I don’t really get the whole asking thing, either.”

“Michael!” Jeremy’s voice was filled with relief and surprise. “I gave myself a panic about this and you say you just assumed we were going anyway?!”

Michael let out a laugh. “Yeah, pretty much. But I appreciate you thinking about me all day!”

“Jesus, you jerk,” Jeremy said jokingly, allowing himself to smile for the first time that day. 

“I’m your jerk, though,” Michael laughed as he pulled into Jeremy’s driveway. 

“Yeah,” Jeremy breathed. “So the blue bow tie, you said?”


	2. Shooting Star (Boyf Riends)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the night Jeremy Heere was born, there was a shooting star outside the window of the hospital room.

On the night Jeremy Heere was born, there was a shooting star outside the window of the hospital room.

He was in his father’s arms, his mother having fallen asleep. She’d gone through a long labor. Her husband refused to let the nurse take his son to the nursery just yet. He wanted to show him his first night sky.

It just so happened that he’d also see his first shooting star. He’d later learn that shooting stars are just meteors. Stars don’t really fly. They don’t really fall. He’d also later grow tired of this story. His father would tell of how Jeremy giggled and cooed at the sight. The older Jeremy became, the more embarrassing and, frankly, boring the story got to him.

His father told it more often after his mother left. Jeremy knew it was helping him cope. He let him tell it as often as he needed. It was always the same.

His dad always made it sound like a miracle, or a sign that Jeremy would achieve great things. Jeremy wasn’t quite sure. His third grade science teacher said that these things were just coincidences. That was his word of the day. Coincidence.

Jeremy’s life was full of coincidental happenings. It never rained while he was outside—coincidence. He always had exact change—coincidence. He always remembered to use his coupons before they expired—coincidence. He’d never gotten food poisoning from the school cafeteria—coincidence. Meeting Michael Mell when they were four years old—definitely not a coincidence.

————————————

Michael was always there for him.

Michael was there when Jeremy fell and broke his ankle in kindergarten--he’d gotten the teacher. He was there when Jeremy got lost at the local fair--he’d helped him find his parents. He was there when Jeremy had panic attacks through middle school and into high school--with each one, Michael seemed to get better at helping Jeremy out of them. He was there when Jeremy’s mother had left. There wasn’t much he could do. He didn’t stop trying, though. He was always there for him.

Jeremy didn’t question it. He knew about coincidences. The only thing he knew wasn’t one was their meeting; he was convinced they were fated to meet, that it was their destiny. They’d always be together and he knew this better than he knew his name.

But he didn’t know why.

————————————

It was Jeremy’s 16th birthday, his sweet sixteen. His father wanted to give him a party, but Jeremy had already had a bar mitzvah and it had been enough for him. He said so. Too many people. So, Jeremy’s sixteenth birthday consisted of him, his father, and Michael in the Heere living room eating discount Walmart cake and watching TV. It was the first time in a while Jeremy had control over the TV remote, and he left it on the television program Too Cute! There was a marathon, and dammit, those puppies really were too cute.

Mr. Heere, like on all of Jeremy’s birthdays, told the story of the shooting star that was outside of his son’s hospital room window. He told it with the same enthusiasm as he always had, and Jeremy couldn’t feel embarrassed. For one, Michael already knew this story, and many more actually embarrassing baby stories. For two, Jeremy knew how much it meant to his father, and seeing his dad’s face light up like this was worth hearing the story over and over. 

Michael nodded along to each plot point, and Jeremy absently leaned his head on his shoulder. 

The three of them spent the afternoon like this, Jeremy in between his father and Michael on the small sofa, until Jeremy spoke up.

“Micah?” he asked, using his best friend’s childhood nickname. 

Michael adjusted himself so he could look at his best friend. “Yeah, Jer?”

Mr. Heere pretended to be engaged with something on his cell phone. 

“Let’s go for a drive,” Jeremy answered, his voice dreamy and floating. 

“What?” Michael almost choked on his fourth piece of birthday cake. “I thought you hated riding in the car,” he said warily. “You’re always anxious about it, Jer.”

“There’s a lot to be afraid of on the road, but--Not this time, I promise,” Jeremy pleaded. “I want to just...see things, you know? With you.”

Mr. Heere glanced over, making sure his son’s ‘you’ only meant Michael. When he saw that Jeremy’s gaze never left his best friend, he went back to his Angry Birds. 

“See things?” Michael’s voice was soft, a tinge of worry. “You see the town every day.” 

Jeremy hesitated, hoping his father was really as engrossed in his game as he seemed to be. “It’s not really about seeing things,” he admitted, looking down at his hands in his lap. His voice became impossibly lower, almost a whisper but raspy enough to not be. “I want to be alone with you.”

Michael blinked. Jeremy could tell he was searching himself for the right reaction. Finally, he spoke. “Why in a car, Miah?” That familiar nickname, as Jeremy had used for Michael earlier, caused a smile to play on Michael’s lips. It was contagious. Jeremy couldn’t help but smile, too.

“Not just a car!” Jeremy defended. “Your car! Your Cruiser! It smells--”

“Like weed?”

“No! Like memories!” 

Michael paused. “If you want to, I’ll do it.”

“Yes!” Jeremy pumped his fist. “Let’s go!”

Mr. Heere turned his phone off. “Now?” he said. “It’s getting dark, Jeremy.”

Jeremy groaned. “It’s my birthday,” he reasoned. 

Michael made eye contact with Jeremy’s father, but Jeremy couldn’t tell what their eyes were saying. 

“Fine,” Mr. Heere gave in. “If you end up staying at Michael’s, call me.”

Jeremy grinned. “Thank you!” He hopped up from his spot on the couch. “Come on, Micah!”

Michael sighed, but it wasn’t a sigh of discomfort or of annoyance. It was a Michael Sigh, and Jeremy had yet to figure out what those meant. 

He all but dragged his best friend off the couch, through the door--saying goodbye to his father, first, of course--and to his car in the driveway. 

Jeremy was in the passenger seat before Michael could even open his door. His seatbelt was on before Michael could close his door. Jeremy was staring at Michael as the latter put his key into the ignition and started the engine. 

“Liking the view?” Michael didn’t turn to look at Jeremy as he pulled out of the driveway. 

Jeremy scoffed. “I’m just excited,” he replied, still not looking away from the driver. 

“Really?” 

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, no,” Michael defended. “You just really don’t like car trips, so this is kinda, I dunno, out of character.”

“I told you, I just like being alone with you.”

“We could be alone in your room, or in my basement, or in another stationary location,” Michael pointed out.

“I just wanted a little change.” Jeremy turned away from Michael for the first time since he got in the car. Looking out of his window, he sighed. Not a Michael Sigh, no, those were only Michael’s. This was a sigh of defeat--A Jeremy Sigh.

“I can’t blame you,” Michael admitted. “Hearing your dad tell that star story every year must get old.

“That’s not really the issue.” 

“Then what is?”

“That was poor word choice.” Jeremy shook his head. “There isn’t an issue, really,” he tried to explain. He sighed once more. “I just wanted change,” he repeated, giving a small shrug. 

“Well, this is a change,” Michael agreed. “Usually you can’t stand to look out the window.”

“I’m sixteen now, Micah. I can do things.”

“Not arguing with that logic.”

The drive continued, and, soon, Jeremy returned to his previous position of staring at Michael. The taller boy occasionally checked to make sure he was okay with the car’s bumping and turning, but the rest of the time was mostly quiet. 

Jeremy had time to reflect. He thought about his friend, about Rich Goranski at school--who tormented the two of them relentlessly despite himself being little over five feet tall--about his father, and about the shooting star. 

He smiled up at Michael, who was busy focusing on the busy road. The sun was setting quickly, and headlights shone from the other vehicles like fireflies in a country sky. Jeremy decided that although some things were tough, Michael would never give up on him, and honestly, wasn’t that all that mattered? 

“Micah,” Jeremy started, but was interrupted. 

“You’ve never called me that as much as you have this afternoon, Jer,” Michael pointed out. “What gives?”

His reflection time had prepared him for this. He’d been thinking on it for a while, and this was what he wanted. 

Jeremy looked at Michael’s eyes, though the chocolate brown of them were pointed toward the street. He took a shaky breath, exhaled, then took a longer, shakier breath. 

“I think I love you.”

Michael’s eyes widened immediately, his chest visibly tightening, his breath hitching. He took his gaze off of the road for a moment to look his passenger in the eyes properly. Before Jeremy could repeat himself or take it back--not that he wanted to. Lord knew how long he’d been keeping that in--the car swerved and ran straight into the oak tree in its path.

————————————

“Jeremy?” He heard his name, but it sounded distant and echoic. “Jeremy!” The sound became closer. “Jer, come on!” It was his father. He seemed upset, worried. Jeremy wanted to tell him not to worry, but he didn’t know what he shouldn’t worry about. Was there something he forgot? Did something happen? He remembered...Oh, no. That must have all been a dream. He never went on a drive with Michael, he never told Michael that he loves him. He was only just waking up on his sixteenth birthday. His father would soon shove a cake in his face, take his picture, tell him about his birth--

“Jeremy, wake the hell up!” That wasn’t his father. That was Michael. Michael didn’t spend the night, why was he here? “You’re really scaring us!”

Scaring them? What--

A third voice, a woman’s, rang clearer than the other two. “Don’t pressure him. He can hear everything you say. Give him a few moments.” It was professional. Like a...doctor?

Jeremy’s eyes snapped open, but his body stayed still. He was in a bed. A bed in a room that wasn’t his. It smelled like cleaner. A hospital. He was in a hospital. That drive wasn’t a dream. They’d crashed. He must have been knocked out. His head hurt like hell, but he still couldn’t move much.

“Jeremy!” He saw his father by the foot of the bed, relief on his face. Michael was standing right on Jeremy’s left side. He looked really bad. There were cuts all over his face, a large bandage covering his right ear. 

As it turned out, the crash had totaled Michael’s car. The doctor from before, Dr. Huang, had told them that the collision should have been fatal. Neither of them should have walked away. Yet, here they were. 

The real news came when she told Jeremy his condition. He’d asked if he’d been paralyzed, and if that was why he couldn’t move. That wasn’t the case. He couldn’t move because the pain medication and anesthesia had to be that strong. Then came the question: that strong for what?

The answer wasn’t quite one that Jeremy understood. He saw his father nod occasionally, but he knew he didn’t understand either. Michael kept silent. 

A piece of the windshield had lodged itself in Jeremy’s abdomen. Michael’s car was too old to have airbags, apparently. Luckily, the glass missed his vital organs, but emergency surgery was necessary. The doctor was astonished that Jeremy’s organs had been spared--she mumbled something like ‘miracle’. There was bad news, however. 

The surgery was only partly successful, and a small piece of the glass remained in a place that would require more extensive surgery to remove. The problem was the survival rate. 

This particular surgery--even with the best surgeon the hospital could hire--was dangerously close to Jeremy’s small intestine. The glass shard had traveled away from the initial point of entry, where Dr. Huang and her team were able to extract the larger pieces. It was too deep to remove at that time. Now, it risked entering Jeremy’s bloodstream. 

Jeremy tried to process this. He tried a lot of things. He asked the doctor to repeat it, he asked his father to repeat it, he asked Michael to repeat it, he even repeated it to himself. To no avail. He couldn’t convince himself this was really happening. It wasn’t that the shock of being injured clouded his thoughts, and it wasn’t his underlying guilt that Michael had been hurt because of him. It was the fact that the story started with Jeremy telling his best friend that he was in love with him. He couldn’t believe he’d done that. 

The whole time, Michael stood close to Jeremy’s side. He looked more than worried, more than scared. He only spoke when Jeremy spoke to him, and his voice sounded beyond broken. Jeremy wanted to ask what the bandage on his ear was for, but that was for another time. 

Jeremy’s father had made a choice. They would opt for the dangerous surgery first thing in the morning, knowing it might be too late or ineffective. Anything to save Jeremy, he’d said. 

Everything felt numb to the birthday boy, and not because of the medication. Sometime during the night, he’d managed to fall asleep.

————————————

“Stay calm, Jer. This won’t hurt.”

Jeremy felt a pressure push down on the bed under him. His eyes snapped open. Michael stood above him, leaning an arm on the bed beside Jeremy’s head. 

“M-Michael?” Jeremy croaked, not sure at all what was going on. 

Michael shushed him. As his eyes adjusted, Jeremy could see that the cuts and scrapes that had been on his friend’s face earlier had vanished. The bandage over his ear was gone, the skin clean and smooth. As if it could provide an explanation, Jeremy glanced toward his father. The man was asleep in the stiff hospital chair, snoring ever so slightly. 

“Wha-” Michael shushed Jeremy again. 

“Stay calm,” he said, his voice barely audible. “This won’t hurt,” he repeated. 

Before Jeremy could even try to protest, Michael threw back the blanket from on top of him, exposing what he’d been too afraid to look at: his wounds. The numbing agent had worn off, but the IV connected to his arm was still pumping copious amounts of morphine through his system, and he still couldn’t quite feel anything below his chest. He did, however, feel nauseated as he looked down in instinct at himself. 

Bloodstained bandages--thick ones--were wrapped around his waist. His breathing hitched at the sight of how much blood there was. He couldn’t dwindle on it, however, because Michael was soon putting both his hands on Jeremy’s bandages.

Remembering being shushed, Jeremy stayed quiet, afraid of what Michael would do if he wasn’t. Though he couldn’t quite feel it, he could tell his friend was putting considerable pressure on Jeremy’s side. 

Frozen in confusion and fear, Jeremy couldn’t think. He couldn’t wonder what the hell Michael was doing. He could only watch on.

Suddenly, a warmth traveled straight from Michael’s hands--a warmth Jeremy could feel. It was accompanied by a sort of unexplainable glow. As the warmth deepened through Jeremy’s torso, the glow brightened. It was a pure, white color. Michael’s face had scrunched up, as if he were concentrating. Jeremy still couldn’t make a sound.

The warmth took over his entire body, and he suddenly felt more energized than ever. With a final flash of the glowing light, Michael fell back against the wall as if he were lightheaded. With the help of his newfound energy and the sight of Michael in turmoil, Jeremy bolted from the bed and to his friend’s side. 

Michael coughed. “Lie the hell back down,” he angrily whispered, gesturing to Jeremy’s father, still asleep on the chair, but no longer snoring. “You’ll wake him up.”

“Are you okay?” Just like Jeremy to ignore Michael’s wishes and forget all about a weird-ass light coming from the latter’s hands.

“Jeremy, I swear to God,” Michael muttered as he stood up straighter. “I’m fine. Lie down.”

“But-”

“Jeremy.”

Jeremy finally obeyed, noticing he could once again feel the area that had been numb minutes ago. It felt normal, there was no pain. 

From the bed, in a whisper as to not upset Michael again, Jeremy eventually asked, “What the hell did you do?”

————————————

Somehow, Jeremy’s father had remained asleep the entire time Michael spoke to Jeremy.

It had been strange, to say the least. 

“I healed you,” Michael said, as if it were the most obvious answer. He spoke again before Jeremy had a chance. “Look under your bandages if you want proof.”

“The doctor said I shouldn’t take them off, Michael!” Jeremy almost yelled. He was back into a somewhat coherent train of thought, and none of this was making sense.

“Fine,” Michael waved his hand. “They’ll see it in the morning anyway.”

“What are you talking about?!” 

Michael sighed, and it wasn’t a Michael Sigh this time. It was one of those “Oh boy, you’re in for a real treat” sighs. Jeremy’s mother used to sigh that way.

“You haven’t figured it out by now?” He sounded disappointed. Jeremy hated it when Michael sounded like this. It was usually his fault. 

“What are you talking about?!” Jeremy repeated, louder, earning a stern look from the other boy.

“You’re not in pain now, are you?”

“No, but-”

“You should have died in that crash, right?”

“Yeah, but-”

“We should both be dead, shouldn’t we?”

“What are you-”

“All the times you’ve said something was a coincidence,” Michael started, “has it really been one?”

“I don’t understand!” Jeremy was sitting up in the bed now, his hand on his side despite the lack of pain. 

“I really have to tell you, don’t I?”

“Please do!” Jeremy was almost in hysterics. 

“You really think always turning the television on at the best part of a movie is a coincidence? Or never getting melted ice cream on your hands when you have a cone? Or always stepping slightly to the side of gum on the sidewalk instead of onto it? What about-”

“What are you saying, Michael?! Are you trying to say you’re the one doing all of that? That’s impossible! I’m just lucky. You’re jealous!” 

“You’re not listening. You can’t honestly believe all of those things are coincidences. Every time? You’re obsessed with this coincidence thing.”

“They are coincidences! All the way from the dumb shooting star until-”

“Until you literally saw me heal your fatal wounds in front of you? Is that a coincidence?”

“Michael-”

“Speaking of that star,” Michael walked closer to Jeremy’s bed. “You think it’s a coincidence, too.”

“Are you saying that wasn’t just a lucky once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon? You’re being stupid, Michael, you-”

“Look at my face. I was supposed to get my ear removed from that wreck. Does it look injured to you?”

“No, but-”

“Coincidence?” 

Jeremy’s eyes wandered down to where his hand was still resting on his side. 

“Take the bandages off, Jer,” Michael said, his voice softer than the accusatory tone he’d adopted in the past few minutes. “Just look.”

It was a process, to say the least, to get the wet wraps off. But once they were removed, Jeremy gasped. Michael was right; there was nothing there but smooth skin. Nothing to indicate an injury or any sort of surgery. It couldn’t be a-

“Coincidence, Jeremy?”

“No,” he admitted. “It can’t be.” 

“Finally, you realize what I’ve been doing for you.”

“You- this isn’t possible. Unless-”

“I’m telling, you, Jer. That star wasn’t a-”

Jeremy snapped his head up from his side to look at Michael, his eyes wide. “That was you, wasn’t it?” His voice cracked, soft and weak.

Michael sighed--a Michael Sigh, this time. “I’m your-”

“Guardian angel?”

Michael blinked. “Well, actually, yeah.” His expression was one of surprise and sheepishness. 

“That’s how you- You’re an- Oh my god,” Jeremy struggled. 

Michael put an arm on Jeremy’s shoulder. “You just weren’t supposed to fall in love with me.”

“Wh- That’s what you’re worried about?! Not me knowing your secret? Not my dad finding out?? Not the doctors when they see I’m completely clean-”

“I’m worried about that part because,” Michael inhaled, “I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you, either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what this is! It's certainly long.


	3. Is He Cheating? (RichJake)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake thinks Rich is cheating on him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short, OOC, and kinda weird.   
> There ARE mentions of SELF HARM and SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, but not in detail.

Their apartment was small compared to Jake’s old house, but they’d made it theirs. There was a stereo by the entrance, posters on the walls, and an old arcade game that Michael and Jeremy had given them when they moved in. The furniture was clean, despite it having been bought used. The whole place fit together nicely, like the two of them.

It was a quiet night in for them. Rich had made them both a nice dinner of dinosaur chicken nuggets and mozzarella sticks—his signature meal. Jake smiled to himself at the way the food was arranged on his plate when Rich set it in front of him. The dinosaurs appeared to be climbing trees and sitting on logs. It was, frankly, adorable.

“You’re so cute, Rich.” Jake couldn’t help saying it. He’d been saying it a lot lately, since he’d realized how red faced it caused his boyfriend to become. Rich could keep a straight face through hours of dirty talk, but mundane compliments are what really got to him.

Blushing, Rich smiled softly. His eyes shifted from Jake’s to his own plate in embarrassment. The smiles on both of their faces didn’t leave them throughout the whole meal.

The plan had been dinner and cuddling on their new couch, and the first part was a success. The second was close to becoming a reality when Rich sat up from his place on Jake’s chest abruptly.

“Is something wrong?” Jake’s voice was soft and smooth.

“I just need to,” Rich replied, “go to the bathroom.” 

It sounded like he just thought of an excuse on the spot, but Jake was tired and honestly a bit tipsy from the wine his boyfriend had served at dinner, so he let it slide. Tipsy Jake could never be angry at Rich’s lisp. 

Scrambling up off of his boyfriend, Rich disappeared around the corner where their bathroom was located. Jake sat up, sighing. He didn’t know how long Rich would be. He missed him already.

————

That would not be the last time Rich slipped out on Jake when they were about to cuddle or become more intimate. Jake swore he counted at least four times he was deprived of Rich’s body on his this month alone. 

Something was going on. Besides those times, Rich had also skipped two of his chemistry lectures, which was unheard of; he loved chemistry. He even attended class the day after his and Jake’s two-year dating anniversary, which turned out to be a mistake. Jake wouldn’t let Rich go to class hungover again. He was absolutely miserable.

Along with those missed days, Rich had also been spending a lot of time alone. When they’d started dating, Rich had wanted nothing more than to be with Jake at all times, and it hadn’t really changed in their two years together. Until now, that is. He’d stolen away to the confines of the second bedroom--which was empty, since the two of them shared the bigger one--more than Jake would have liked. He missed his boyfriend when he was gone. It also didn’t help that Jake could hear Rich talking to someone when this happened. He could never make out the words, nor could he tell if the person was in the room with Rich or on the phone. He could barely hear a feminine voice through the door.

It scared him. 

If Rich was talking to one of their friends, he’d tell Jake, so that he could say hello, in Christine’s case, good luck, as she usually called before a particularly stressful audition. Whoever it was, Rich wanted to hide it from Jake. 

He’d already contemplated possibilities. Rich couldn’t be planning Jake a surprise party. That didn’t mean skipping class, nor was Jake’s birthday anytime soon. He also considered the idea that it could be Rich’s family contacting him. They were estranged since his mother had died, and his father was not a nice man to be around. Jake knew he had an older brother, but it was entirely possible that he had a sister or cousin or someone else he’d never told Jake about. Rich was secretive when it came to his family and Jake respected that. He was the same way. 

Deciding on that solution, Jake let the next week’s half dates and loneliness slide by. He knew Rich would come around when he was ready. 

On that Friday, however, things changed.

————-

They’d just gotten back from their shared night class—philosophy—and Rich had been especially adorable with his feet swinging barely above the floor as he sat in his desk. Jake hadn’t been able to handle it. 

The walk back to their apartment had been quiet, but Jake was making plans in his head to make Rich his for the night. 

They’d walked in, and as soon as the door had closed, Jake had his boyfriend against the adjacent wall, his left wrist being held over his head by Jake’s hand, his lips colliding with the other man’s. 

Rich gasped, and Jake pulled his face away just slightly and looked down at him. “Color?” he asked softly, his voice breathy. 

Rich gulped. “Green, but-” he started, then Jake interrupted. 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He took his hand off of Rich’s wrist, where his sleeve had been pushed up by the force. In the moonlight streaming in from the window, he saw red marks on his boyfriend’s arms. 

“What-” he blinked. “What are these?” Worry crept into his voice. 

“Nothing,” Rich whined. “I’m fine, are we doing this or not?” 

“Richie,” Jake said as he stepped back from the shorter man. “Who did this to you?” He knew it wasn’t him. He’d never abused Rich, nor did they engage in...those kinds of activities. 

“ _No one_ ,” Rich replied, pulling his sleeve back down over the marks. 

“Really? Because you’ve been acting _hella_ weird lately, and that’s something someone hiding things would say!” He was worried, but his words came out more like anger. “I tried giving you the benefit of the doubt, but,” his voice broke, “are you cheating on me?”

Rich’s eyes widened and his mouth formed an O as his eyebrows scrunched together in a way Jake would find cute in any other circumstance. “No!” he shouted. “You’re all I’ve ever needed! Why would I need to-“

“All the signs point to this, Richard!” Jake was verging on tears. He hadn’t wanted to point this finger. He hadn’t wanted to even _think_ about this. It made him feel sick to imagine Rich, his sweet and adorable boyfriend of two years, cheating on him right behind his back. “What else could this be?”

Rich flinched at Jake’s tone, and Jake couldn’t help but feel guilty for becoming so harsh with him. 

“Jake,” Rich whispered, his eyes full of worry and something Jake couldn’t quite identify, “I swear to God, I’m not cheating on you. Do you really think I’m that kind of person?”

Jake didn’t think that, of course he didn’t. Rich had changed since the SQUIP had manipulated the hell out of him. He was nicer, softer, more mature--a lot more mature. But the evidence was against Jake’s wishes. 

“Who have you been talking to? Why are you skipping classes? Why are you bailing on our date nights? If you’re not cheating on me, I’d like to hear your excuse.” Jake looked down at Rich in anger and worry, one hand on Rich’s arm--he didn’t know when it had moved there--and the other on his own hip. 

Rich’s bottom lip quivered. “I- I-” 

“You don’t even have one?” Jake all but shouted. “You didn’t even think of a cover story in case I found out about this? You’re smarter than that, Rich!” He hadn’t noticed his grip tightening around Rich’s burn-scarred arm until it caused the smaller man to whimper. He let go immediately. 

“Jake,” Rich whispered again, and his boyfriend could see the tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m sorry, but-” Not even his lisp could get Jake on his side this time.

“Sorry? You’re breaking my heart!’ Jake took three deep breaths, watching the water in Rich’s eyes shake itself down his cheeks. He held his hand out. “Give me your phone,” he said tonelessly. “I at least want to know who I’ve been sharing you with.”

Rich sputtered, but gave up, reaching into his pocket and slapping his iPhone into Jake’s hand. 

Jake backed up, putting Rich’s passcode in--a simple 1234 pattern--and pulled up the recent calls. Rich watched in what Jake assumed was shame and guilt. 

“Cynthia?” Jake spat. “That’s her?”

Rich opened his mouth to say something, but Jake cut him off. “I’m calling her.” He put the phone next to his ear.

“Jake!” Rich cried. “Hang up, I-I’ll explain it all, I swear!” His lisp was more prevalent than ever, and he tried and failed to reach the phone himself. 

Jake ignored him, letting the phone ring until a woman’s voice answered. “Richard?” She said, and Jake didn’t know what to say. Should he yell at her? Should he apologize to her? Maybe she didn’t know Rich had a boyfriend. It might not be her fault. 

Jake could barely hear Rich’s pleas for him to stop. They sounded distant. The woman spoke again. “Richard, are you all right? Do you need a dispatcher?” She sounded worried. 

“Dispatcher?” Jake repeated, much to Rich’s visible dismay. He decided to rip it off like a band-aid. “My boyfriend is cheating on me with you,” he said quickly, tears forming in his own eyes now. 

Rich was freely crying now, his sleeves pushed back over the marks on his wrists, wiping the tears from his face. 

“You must be Jake,” the woman replied. “Is Richard all right?”

“What are you talking about? I just said he’s cheating on me. You knew about this?” Anger crept its way back into Jake’s voice. 

“Do you have the right number, sir?” 

“Judging by Rich’s reaction, I’d say I fucking do!” 

“This is a suicide and depression hotline. Richard has been assigned to me. I believe you should talk to him.”

The phone hit the ground and the sound of the woman hanging up echoed in Jake’s ears. What? That couldn’t be true. That was their excuse--their lie. It had to be. 

His eyes glanced slowly down at Rich, who had started crying harder. As he wiped his tears off of his chin, his sleeve was pushed up once again, revealing the marks Jake had seen earlier. That sealed it.

“R-Rich,” Jake sputtered. “I’m so _sorry_. I shouldn’t have jumped to concl- Why didn’t you tell me? What’s going on?” He felt absolutely awful. Everything hurt. Rich was suicidal? He was hurting himself? And he hadn’t told Jake anything about it? What happened to their relationship? Did Rich think Jake would judge him? Leave him?

Rich’s voice was shaky and weak, a tone that rarely escaped the usually peppy and flirtatious man’s lips. “I wanted to get better before I told you,” he admitted, causing more tears to fall from both men’s eyes. So it was true--he was struggling with himself. “I wanted you to be proud of me afterward, not worried during.” He was barely whispering, but Jake’s senses were on such overdrive that his voice was the loudest thing he’d heard in a while.

“W-What brought this on, Richie? Did I do this?” He had to ask. 

“N-No,” Rich shook his head violently. “It was just a relapse, I-I swear. Cynthia says those just happen.”

Jake could tell this was hard for Rich to say. His boyfriend had gotten better after the SQUIP incident, sure, but not before a severe depression caused by the awful things he’d done while he’d been SQUIPped and the lack of something telling him who to be. And he’d relapsed. 

And Jake didn’t even notice.

He bent down instantly, hugging his boyfriend tightly. “I’m so sorry, RIch,” he spouted. “I should have seen this, I should have helped--”

Rich hesitantly reciprocated the hug. “I didn’t want you to notice.”

Jake showered Rich’s hair with short kisses. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he said. “I’m so sorry I just assumed--God, I’m sorry.”

Rich laughed nervously. “I would have thought the same, Dill Pickle,” he reassured. 

Jake smiled down at him. “I’m gonna help you through this. Don’t think about me being worried. I’m already proud. You contacted help yourself. I probably wouldn’t have done that.”

“Really?” Rich questioned, looking up at Jake and blinking a straggling tear out of his left eye. 

“Totally, babe. I love you. Do you need anything right now?”

“J-just you,” Rich answered softly, relief visible on his face. 

Jake leaned further down and kissed him for a long while, pouring all of his apology into it. 

Pulling away finally, he spoke again. “Color?” he asked, smiling faintly.

“Green,” said Rich, his real smile returning for the first time in weeks.


	4. First Kiss (Boyf Riends)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from tumblr anon  
> "Why haven't you kissed me yet?"

Jeremy’s father was in town for a job interview. He’d actually bought a few nice pairs of pants and had applied for a temp job at a paper manufacturing business. If he got the job, he’d just be sitting behind a computer all day, but it was better than sitting home pantsless and losing money.

 

No, Jeremy’s father wasn’t home. This meant that he and Michael didn’t have to hide away in Michael’s dark, cold basement bedroom to get stoned–they could do it in the afternoon sunlight streaming through Jeremy’s upstairs bedroom window, sitting in their old and faded bean bags as the sun sets and they ride their highs off together.

 

They’d only done that once before, when Mr. Heere had gone out of state for a funeral that he hadn’t wanted Jeremy to attend. The two boys were eager for this opportunity. 

 

Michael had rolled two joints prior to coming over, one for each of them. Jeremy had lit his first, taking in a long hit and letting the smoke escape through his teeth slowly before passing the lighter to Michael beside him. Soon they were both coming into their highs.

 

It was quiet–save the sound of breathing–for a while until Jeremy shifted on his bean bag chair and turned to face his best friend. He waited for Michael to notice.

 

The taller boy blew out a puff of smoke–he’d almost perfected his smoke rings–and looked at Jeremy. 

 

“This is nice,” Jeremy drawled. His voice was always much smoother and less stuttery when he was high. Pot did wonders for his anxiety.

 

Michael hummed in agreement, nodding and bringing his joint to his face but not into his mouth. “It really is,” he confirmed. “Thanks for letting me over.” 

 

Jeremy laughed. That was a joke, of course. Michael would have come over if Jeremy wanted him to or not, though he always wanted him over. He even came by when Jeremy was supposed to be grounded. He’d never understand how he convinced his dad to let him upstairs. 

 

Michael laughed, too. He couldn’t help it. He felt so relaxed, and only half of that feeling was because of the weed. Being with Jeremy was a high in and of itself. Plus, his laughter was extremely contagious. Michael couldn’t keep it in if he were triple dog dared to.

 

They laughed and smoked for what felt like not long enough. Jeremy eventually scooted his bean bag closer to Michael’s. The two of them stared at each other for a while. 

 

Jeremy broke the silence again, his high more intense than earlier–Michael could tell there’d be some gossip, as a Jeremy this high usually meant juicy secrets were to be revealed. The Jewish boy put his hand on his chin in a thinking position before speaking.

 

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

 

Michael nearly choked on the smoke he inhaled. “What?” he croaked, suddenly feeling a lot less relaxed.

 

“You heard me,” Jeremy rolled his reddened eyes and put his chin back in both hands like a teenage girl in an early 2000s sleepover movie.

 

Michael was frozen, searching for something to say, so Jeremy kept going. 

 

“You know,” he said, almost giggly, “I’m not as oblivious as everyone thinks. I know about your huge gay crush on me.” He laughed, but not at Michael.

 

“You- I- _What_?” Michael was still in disbelief. Why was this happening now? Of all times and places? When they’re both high and having a good time?

 

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” Jeremy repeated. “Just do it already.” He shrugged like it was nothing.

 

Michael took a deep–non weed–breath. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” His voice was low, barely audible, but Jeremy heard it and shook his head. “Jer, you’re high– _we’re_ high. This isn’t what you want.” It wasn’t, was it? Jeremy was intoxicated, and how did he even know about Michael liking him in the first place?

 

If Michael weren’t under the influence, he might have totally freaked out. He couldn’t help how mellow he felt. 

 

“Um,” Jeremy said in mock thought. “Yes it is. I swear, Mikey, I’ve wanted it since I realized you liked me.” He looked away sheepishly. “Guess I just needed to get high to have the courage to tell you.”

 

“Jeremy,” Michael whispered. “If you want it, take it.” His eyes dared his friend to take the bait. He needed to know he really wanted this. 

 

Not even two seconds later, Michael’s glasses fogged from Jeremy’s breath on them, the latter having crawled over and nearly straddled the taller boy. 

 

“Fine,” Jeremy whispered. “But I get the credit for starting this.” 

 

Michael didn’t have time to think about what that meant before he felt Jeremy’s soft lips colliding onto his own, his heart pounding and blood rushing in his ears. It was perfect. Jeremy was perfect. Maybe he should have kissed him sooner.


	5. Crop Top (Boyf Riends)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt from tumblr  
> "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how did this drabble become a oneshot omfg its so much longer than i intended??

Jeremy stood by the door of the school, waiting for Michael’s car to pull into the parking lot so they could both go inside and join their friends at a table in the cafeteria. He had already seen Brooke, Jenna, and Jake walk in past him. All three had asked him to get out of the cold and come inside, but he’d insisted on waiting for Michael. They’d shrugged and joined Christine and Chloe at their table.

Michael was never this late. Jeremy hoped nothing had happened. He’d text him, but decided not to since his boyfriend was most likely driving. The bell would be ringing in five minutes. He could wait that much longer.

As he looked at his feet, nervous about a presentation that day, someone from behind him poked Jeremy’s shoulder. Surprise and hope that was Michael overtook him as he turned around, but immediately diminished when he saw it was only Rich.

Actually, surprise washed over him again when he saw what the shorter boy was wearing. His sleeveless shirt read “Tips for guys: There’s no need to follow the ‘bros before hoes code’...if your bro is your hoe”. That wasn’t the surprising part. No, Rich flaunted his relationship with Jake regularly. He was proud of it, and everyone supported them, though it made Jake a little embarrassed—not that he’d admit it.

The surprising element was the fact that Rich’s shirt only came down to about three fourths of his rib cage. It was a crop top, exposing his stomach and belly button.

Jeremy pried his bisexual eyes off of Rich’s midriff and looked at his face.

“Rich,” he started, teeth clattering. “It’s January. It’s freezing! Why are you only wearing half a shirt?”

Rich winked and circled around Jeremy. “Jake and I had a bet, and-“

“You lost?”

“Excuse you, tallass. I won.”

“Of course you did.”

“Hey, Jake’s gonna love this. I know you do.” He winked again, walking through the double doors of the school backwards, shooting Jeremy a smirk.

Jeremy watched until Rich had disappeared, turning his body back toward the parking lot. He jumped again at the sight of his boyfriend right in front of him, inches from his cold face, glasses fogged by the warm air that had escaped from inside the school when another student opened the door.

“Michael!” Jeremy exclaimed, a smile finding its way to his lips. “Why are you so late?”

Michael put a hand on the shorter boy’s shoulder. “Ugh,” he groaned. “My car took forever to start. It’s too cold.”

“Oh,” Jeremy said for lack of better words.

“It’s all good now, though!” Michael placed a kiss on Jeremy’s cheek. “Why haven’t you gone inside? It’s freezing.”

——

The school day ended uneventfully. The group’s major talking point had been Rich’s shirt, which Jeremy thought was just enabling him. It did, however, give him a few thoughts.

Jake had seemed to enjoy Rich’s attire—the two of them had even snuck out during lunch to the bathroom to do God knows what. The way Rich had blushed at Jake’s staring had caused an idea to pop into Jeremy’s head.

What if he could get Michael in a crop top?

It wouldn’t be the easiest thing to do. Michael had turned his nose up at Rich when he’d seen his. Jeremy would have to use his best persuasion and puppy eyes. But it would be so worth the work to see his boyfriend in one of those. 

He walked to Michael’s parking spot, where they always met so Michael could drive him home. His boyfriend was already in the car, warming up the engine so the heat would be on for Jeremy. Climbing into the passenger seat and closing the door, Jeremy turned right to Michael and stared at him until he looked back.

“What?” he said, slapping the steering wheel with his hands.

Jeremy smiled secretively. “Did you see Rich today?”

“Yeah, how could I not?” Michael rolled his eyes. “He was all exposed.” He made a gesture with his hands for emphasis. “What about him?”

Jeremy pursed his lips. He decided to let out his thoughts all at once. “I really really think you’d be adorable in a shirt like that!” He added a smile for charm points.

Michael blinked. “Me?” He pointed to himself. “With this pudge? No thanks. I don’t have the body type for that.”

“Micah,” Jeremy whined, placing a hand on his boyfriend’s thigh. “You know I love every part of you. You could just wear it for me.” He tried to wink, which ended up looking like a cat with a pine needle in its eye.

Michael laughed cynically. “Yeah, right. Let’s get you home, Miah.”

Jeremy stayed quiet for the rest of the car ride.

——

He hadn’t given up—no way. With every passing day, Jeremy became more determined to get Michael in a crop top.

He sent links to Amazon sellers with pictures of the ones he thought Michael would wear. A Pac-Man one, one with “P1” on it, a simple maroon one—the possibilities were endless.

Michael never answered those messages, however. He ignored them, continuing their conversations like normal.

Jeremy planned on bringing it up again at his house that Saturday.

Walking down the stairs to Michael’s basement, he planned what he would say. He’d kiss his boyfriend and tell him he loves him, then he’d chalantly mention how he also loves his soft stomach, even if Michael doesn’t. Then he’d seamlessly segway into talking about the shirt topic.

All of his practicing and planning was thrown out of the window when he opened Michael’s door and saw his boyfriend standing sheepishly by his bed, his arms folded over his midsection in a poor attempt to hide that his stomach was exposed.

Jeremy turned a bright red, slowly closing the door and walking toward Michael. 

“You got one?” Jeremy whispered, eager for Michael to move his arms so he could see. 

Michael avoided eye contact. “No,” he admitted. “I just cut the bottom off an old t-shirt.” He looked up at Jeremy, blushed, and looked away again. “This was a mistake,” he muttered.

“No it wasn’t!” Jeremy approached him, hands on Michael’s shoulders. “I wanna see!”

Michael was rigid under Jeremy’s touch. “No,” he replied. “I don’t have the body type—“

“Clothes don’t have a body type,” Jeremy whispered, kissing his boyfriend before continuing. “We can wear what we want. And you’re perfect. I love all of you. I wanna see.”

Michael hesitated. “Don’t laugh at me,” he said seriously. 

“I’d sooner cry, because I love you so much!”

“Yeah, right,” Michael mumbled before slowly moving his arms from in front of him. 

Jeremy stepped back to take it in. It was even better than he could have imagined. He could finally see the soft and squishy tummy that he loved so much. It looked wonderful, like a Hanukkah gift come early. He stood silently, love overtaking him as he felt his eyes sting slightly with joyful tears.

“Say something!” Michael pleaded. “Don’t- don’t stare at me!” He sat on his bed, moving to put a pillow in front of his body.

Jeremy reached a hand out and stopped him. Michael looked him in the eyes with an odd expression. He backed away, but Jeremy followed, climbing on the bed himself. He grabbed the pillow, moving it from Michael’s grasp with ease. 

He pulled his legs up on the bed and rested a hand on his boyfriend’s soft skin. A gasp escaped Michael’s mouth at the touch, and he tensed.

“Shh,” Jeremy said. “You’re perfect. Thank you for this.”

Michael remained speechless.

Jeremy snugged up to him and put his head beside his hand on Michael’s stomach.

“I love you so much, Micah,” he breathed. “Clothes don’t have body types. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Michael let Jeremy stay there as they both drifted off, waking the next morning in the same position they’d slept in.


	6. Holiday Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang go to NYC for the winter holidays and Jeremy's never been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a tumblr prompt sent in by magic-in-a-bards-song

“Are we there yet?”

“Rich, you know we aren’t. You asked that four minutes ago,” Christine said, her head turned slightly so the boy in question could hear her from behind. 

Eight teenagers in a bus on a trip to New York City for the holidays had already been proven to be a bad idea. Rich had asked if they were there yet seventeen times so far, Jeremy had eaten half the snacks, Chloe and Brooke had only let the group listen to pop music--which Jake had encouraged--Jenna had taken up the cigarette lighter to charge her phone, and Michael had gotten a headache trying to drive them all safely. Christine had kept her cool, however, and was probably the reason they hadn’t crashed. Yet.

“I’m just excited, Chris,” Rich whined, Jake being the only one able to see his pouty face all the way in the back of the van. They all knew he was excited. He’d said it three times, and his lisp had gotten more prominent as a result of the stimulation. Plus, they were all excited. 

They’d decided over Winter break that they’d take a short vacation--no adults allowed--to the city. It was Christine’s idea, as she’d mentioned a sale on Broadway tickets for the holiday season and wanted to see a show for Christmas. They’d all agreed it would be a great idea to stay for a few days. They’d managed to convince their parents--though Jake didn’t really have anyone NOT to give him permission--and the plan was soon underway. 

“I know!” Brooke turned the music on her bluetooth down. “We can all say what we’re most excited about doing when we get there! That’ll be super fun, right?” 

Jenna nodded next to Christine. “Yeah!” she agreed. She even put her phone down beside her leg to pay attention. “You go first, then.”

Brooke hummed loudly in an ‘I’m thinking’ way. “I really want to check out the shops,” she said. “Me and Chloe have extra cash for whatever’s hot in fashion. Right, Chlo?”

“Mhm,” Chloe agreed. “We’re hitting up every outlet store. It’s going to be fabulous.” She laughed with Brooke before speaking up again. “What about you, Jen?”

Jenna answered immediately. “The LEGO Store always has holiday exclusive sets,” she said. “I’ve been collecting them for a while now. And I just got a new camera, so I’ll be taking every picture. You guys better pose for me.”

A “Yeah!” was heard from the back left--Jake. He always loved posing for Jenna’s photographs. They always turned out really artistic and “dope” as he put it. Jenna smiled and took the opportunity to pass the conversation his way. “Jake, what do you wanna do?”

He sat up straighter. “I’m gonna eat every meal at Sbarro’s!”

“You already do that, Dill Pickle,” Rich laughed, his best friend looking back at him angrily. 

“Fine,” Jake said. “I’m going ice skating. It’s gonna be boss. Who wants in?”

Rich raised his hand immediately while the others made noises of uncertainty.

“It’s okay, take your time,” Jake permissed. 

Rich piped up. “I’m looking forward to going ice skating with my best bro!” 

“That’s new, Rich, you just decided on that,” Christine pointed out. “What were you already excited about?”

“No, me and Jake have been planning this for a week! Rockefeller Center, Tuesday night, 7:00, we have ‘All Star’ by Smash Mouth requested on the music queue, and that’s when we make our entrance onto the ice!” Rich was extremely pleased with himself.

“Aw, yeah!” Jake fist bumped Rich and Brook laughed while Jenna mumbled a soft “Wish I got that on camera.”

Brooke took leadership of the conversation again. “We all know what Christine is excited about,” she teased. “But you never told us which show you’re seeing!”

“Oh!” Christine realized. “You’re right! It’s my favorite! I’m seeing Wicked! It’s about--”

“You’ve told us what it’s about, Chris,” Jenna butt in. “Like, a million times.”

“Sorry,” Christine said, but everyone knew she wasn't. They didn’t mind her ranting about her favorite things. They knew it was an outlet for her.

Michael spoke up from the driver’s seat, one of the few times he’d talked the whole ride so far. “I’m actually excited just to ride the subway again, honestly. It’s an...experience. So many cultures at once, all cramped together in hell.”

There were a few collective “Uh…”s from behind him. 

“Fine, I didn’t judge you guys’ stuff, but feel free to think mine’s weird.” He was kidding, of course. He’d expected that sort of reaction. 

“I think that’s super cool!” Jeremy said, putting down a bag of gummy worms. 

“Thanks, Jer,” Michael laughed. He could always count on his best friend to have his back in these sorts of things. 

“That leaves you, Jeremy!” Brooke said. “What’s your favorite thing to do in the city?”

“Oh,” he replied softly. “I’ve never--This is my first visit, actually…” 

A chorus of voices--”No!”, “Really?”, “No way!”, “That’s sad!”--rang out. 

“I’m sorry!” Jeremy retorted. “My dad never had the money for a hotel!”

“That’s why my parents are paying for all of this, dude!” Jake called. “They don’t know they are, but what’s a few thousand bucks gonna do to ‘em?” He’d pretty much accepted that although his mother and father always left him copious amounts of cash, they’d never really cared enough to be around. It was terribly heartbreaking at first, but now it was the group’s number one way to get money to fund their adventures. Something good out of something bad.

“I’ve still never been,” Jeremy said quietly. 

Michael, his eyes on the road, put his right hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “It’s cool. You’re gonna love it, Jer. There’s something for everybody.”

That made Jeremy feel better. “Great,” he said. “Then next time I’ll have something to say.”

“Yeah!” Brooke and Christine called simultaneously. 

“What do you think you want to do?” Jenna asked, back on her phone for only a moment before putting it away again. 

“Well, I dunno,” Jeremy trailed off as Michael’s hand went back to the steering wheel. “I kinda just want to see Times Square, you know?”

“It’s really pretty,” Chloe assured. “Especially at night. My dad and me used to sit on the red bleachers and watch the people walk by and the ads change. Sometimes you get caught on one of the ads that uses a camera and you show up on the side of a building.”

“Oh, wow…” Jeremy didn’t know what to say. It was a little overwhelming. Plus, he’d forgotten about the large amount of people who would be everywhere. It was even more during Christmas time. Vacations like theirs and last minute shopping increased the crowds dramatically. 

“You’ll like it!” Rich shouted. “There’s a really huge Toys R Us and a big M&Ms store and—“

“Don’t ruin the experience, Rich!” Christine chastised. 

“Sorry, bro,” Rich said, his smile unfaltering. “You’ll have to see for yourself.”

—————

Jake—well, his parents—had paid for four rooms at the Hotel Pennsylvania. It was right across the street from Madison Square Garden and Penn Station, which was easy access to restaurants. There was a Sbarro’s down the block near a McDonald’s, and the subway station wasn’t very far. It was in a nice location. 

The group had checked in and set their things in their rooms before all piling into one to discuss what they’d be doing their first night. 

“I think this is a perfect opportunity to show Jeremy Times Square,” Christine offered. 

Michael nodded. “Yeah, that should be your first experience. It really sets the New York mood.”

Jeremy gulped, regret pooling in his abdomen. “What about all the people?”

“Don’t worry about it. You’ve got seven of us to defend you,” Jenna said, revealing her new camera from her bag. “And I want to get to picture taking.”

“I guess,” Jeremy said hesitantly. He looked at Michael. 

“It’ll be okay, Jer. It’s overwhelming at first, but once you see the lights, you’ll be caught up in those instead.” Michael clapped him on the back. 

“So we’re going?” Jake bounced excitedly. 

“Yeah,” Christine answered. “Everyone has their room keys, right?”

Eight hands scrambled for a moment before each producing a small brown card. 

“And your MetroPasses?”

More scrambling. Eight yellow cards. 

“Great! Let’s go!”

————-

Jeremy wasn’t a fan of the train. He thought he could appreciate it since Michael did, but he hadn’t even gotten a seat and some sweaty man almost barfed on him. Then he’d nearly missed the stop because he didn’t hear Chloe say they needed to get off. Luckily, he saw Jake above the other heads and followed him off, barely missing getting closed in. 

Swiping their cards to exit the station and climbing up the stairs to the street, Jeremy coughed. “That wasn’t fun at all, Michael.”

“Hey, it’s a complicated pleasure. And some rides are better than others.” He shrugged. “Once I was alone with just my mom on the way to Coney Island. The whole thing was empty. It was surreal.”

“I’d take that over homeless smelly guys any day,” Jeremy whined. “Did you see him? He almost—“ he cut himself off as his head popped over the edge of the stairwell and he saw the first bit of artificial light shining down. 

“Is that—“ 

“Yep!” Chloe said, pulling him up the rest of the steps. “Hurry up.”

They huddled around a pole out of the way of people trying to come in and out of the subway station.

“Take it in, dude,” Michael said, smiling and watching his friend’s face. 

Jeremy was speechless. It was so bright! His eyes hurt looking at it all, but he didn’t dare turn away. It was amazing. Somehow it felt more comfortable to see that the shining billboards were ads for things he recognized. Pepsi, Apple, Rolex. It made the whole thing seem less foreign. The buildings were all taller than he’d ever seen, and he gave up trying to count the floors to one of them. 

The street was decorated for Christmas, which the Jewish boy couldn’t even be annoyed about. It was all pretty. The red and green of Christmas never appealed to him—he liked the blue and white of Hanukkah. But this was beautiful. 

What he thought was really beautiful was the way the colorful advertisements shone on the fresh blanket of snow on the ground and on the buildings’ ledges. The snow glowed and popped. It was unlike anything he’d ever expected. 

He was brought out of his musings when he realized everyone was staring at him. 

“So?” Brooke said, eager. 

“Is it worth it?” Jake asked, grinning. 

Jeremy nodded, then nodded again as if confirming that he meant yes. 

“Told you you’d forget about the crowd,” Michael laughed. 

Jeremy reddened. “Thanks for reminding me, jerk!” He jokingly punched Michael’s arm and returned to marvelling at the city lights.


End file.
